


Fragments of what would have been "Future Simon Versus Simon" etc

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [28]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Attempted Rape, Dark!Simon, Drink Spiking, Future!Simon being a creeper, M/M, Nathan's old friends being awful, Not really a fic so much as a chapter a few bits and me blatehring about what happens next, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: So this is mainly parts of a fic that would have been set during S03E03, afterPower Problems. There is at least one whole chapter here  as well as a description of what would have happened in the fic if I could actually get the thing to work and didn't feel like I needed to take the hiatus I'm taking. There is a small possibility that I'll go back to working on it at some point, in which case it might evolve and change from what you see here, but in case I don't I'll tell you all how I planned on it ending. There is also part of a fic from Simon's perspective that would have been set not long afterSpiral Fractureand the mess associated dealing with his rather strained emotional state after all that has happened to Nathan recently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted rape and past sexual assault. 
> 
> [I know I said I'd post this earlier than I have, but I gave myself one of my headaches and knocked myself out of commission for a couple of days. So sorry. I hope it's of interest to some of you. Thank you so much, all of you, for being such a lovely audience! ]
> 
> This is the bit of the fic I was fairly happy with, but then I couldn't work out what happened directly after it, so there's two versions. The original version, the "family drama":version, will be the second chapter, the version I think the fic would have had will be the chapter after that, the fourth chapter will be a fragment from Future!Simon's perspective, the fifth my explanation of what I had planned for the rest of the fic, and chapter six a fragment of another Simon centric fic.

Simon isn’t happy about him working for Seth. Simon isn’t happy about him accepting the arse power— though Simon does find it hot that he now gets _wet_ — and he gets very, very, very wet indeed when Simon puts his hands on him— Simon is also convinced that there are probably strings attached to Seth’s generosity— but what can he say to that? Of course there are, but he’s pretty sure he knows what they all are, and he’s also pretty sure Simon will be less than impressed if he finds out. 

It’s not so bad, he thinks, copying powers for the guy in payment for being able to make his boyfriend immortal— and that had been _something else_ , concentrating on his immortality power until he’d felt sore and sick and wrong, half-dead, and then touching Simon’s hand— feeling the rush and the shock, both of them yelping, rubbing at their fingers. He’s almost completely certain it worked— but not certain enough to kill Simon to test it out— and even thinking about that makes him— well, it makes him feel very much _not good._

Anyway, for all he said to Seth, if the man didn’t have this power copying power but did have another immortality power, or even had the power copying power but wouldn’t give it to him in exchange for using it for the man— there’s not much he wouldn’t have agreed to if it meant Simon was immortal. So, all in all, it’s probably better things turned out this way. He would have had trouble living with himself— not that he has much of a choice— and it might have ruined his relationship with Simon, but if it meant the other man wasn’t going to die—

He needs to stop thinking about it. It’s done. All good.

Well, not _all_ good. Simon has to go to Stockholm because his dad slipped over in the street and broke his coccyx— which is apparently the proper term for tailbone, which his boyfriend had to explain after he misheard and immediately responded with, ‘Your poor mum.’ 

The thing is, according to the mum in question, the reason Simon’s dad slipped over was that he was distracted after hearing his son had been stabbed and then not told any of his family for a couple of days— and there’s also the way Simon has been staying out, won’t tell them who he’s with— and they’re sure he has a girl, but she must be something to be ashamed of if he won’t bring her around— and in general Simon has apparently not been acting like their son and they’re worried, so the whole family now has to go to Stockholm to prove they are still a family as well as to make sure Simon’s dad is ok. 

Simon doesn’t want to go, even though he loves his dad. He doesn’t want Simon to go either, especially as they’re only just catching up on all the sex they missed while he was having— _feelings_ — about his boyfriend being stabbed. Simon feels he has to go though, and if _Simon_ thinks it’s the right thing to do, it probably _is_ the right thing to do. 

The worst part of an already shitty situation is that the flight’s first thing, so Simon’s mum has insisted he sleep at home since she’s taking them all the airport. The best compromise his boyfriend could come up with was to go back home as late as possible, and to spend their last evening together for the next few days actually going on a proper date— because Simon wants to do something to make him feel treasured while he’s gone. He’d thought maybe an evening in with the new pair of black lace knickers he’d bought on his way back from seeing Seth about the whole— immortality thing— sounded more their speed— but Simon wanted things to be _special._ So, drinks, dinner out somewhere nice with Simon paying— even though _he_ actually has cash for once, then back to the Community Centre for a slow and embarrassingly _romantic_ shag. Apparently he tastes good, when he gets wet— he finds the thought makes him feel weirdly pleased with himself, all stupid and fluttery and sexy. 

But now Simon’s showered and dressed and ready to go and he’s going to have to spend his first night sleeping alone since his boyfriend went after Richard— not that he’d really _slept_ then, more faded out of existence in response to abject misery. He clings, and more than a bit, wanting just one more kiss, one more cuddle, one more moment of being petted— 

He keeps telling himself _it’s only four days, it’s only four days_ — but even the Richard thing didn’t take that long so it’ll be the first four days they’ve spent separated since— actually since the start of their joint community service. 

He hates it. 

Eventually Simon pulls back, says the dreaded words, ‘I’ve got to go.’ He makes an unpleasant whining noise— he’s not going to kid himself— and no amount of promises that they can ring and text and that Simon will be back before he knows it are enough to make him feel any less like making a series of more unpleasant whining noises. Simon seems as reluctant as he is, though without the whining and more fretting about whether he’ll be safe. His boyfriend made the others promise to take proper care of him if he dies while the other man is away, and to make sure they record who did it if it was murder— 

It probably says something about their group of friends that they all agreed readily enough, and Kelly even promised if he did die she would make sure _Rudy_ wasn’t left in charge of his body. Which had made Rudy whine about being treated like a sexual predator and the trio of Curtis and Nikki and Alisha give the man a _look_ and agree they’d make sure it didn’t happen either. 

He and Simon share one last, long, lingering kiss by the Community Centre’s doors and then his boyfriend wanders off into the night, leaving him feeling— _things._

They didn’t even get a chance to talk about a flat between him starting work for Seth and Simon having to leave— or mainly he couldn’t find the right time to bring it up. He kind of wants to have a proper, adult, grown-up conversation about it— _kill him now_ — and there wasn’t time with all the shagging and Simon’s dad breaking his arse and then Simon having to leave. So it’ll have to be when his boyfriend gets back.

Anyway, he’s going to spend the night at his mum’s— not tomorrow night, but the one after, and he’s thinking he might talk to her about it and ask her advice on how to pick a flat— and then the night after that he’s going to spend at his dad’s, and he might just ask the same questions— as well as seeing how the man is going at getting Simon some work experience. 

He may have been making plans to distract himself while he’s without boyfriend. It’d be easy to go out of his head rattling around in the Community Centre alone at night.

Tomorrow night he’s actually going to have drinks with some mates, like, _old_ mates. Mates from before community service. Though by _mates_ he means Robbie— who’s finally gotten out of prison after that thing with the van— his old mates aren’t exactly a criminal lot, for all that he got done for the pick-n-mix thing, but Robbie has always had an utterly joyful disregard for the law far beyond even his own dodgy relationship with it— Robbie long-term girlfriend Haylee, Liz— who hates him, and Paulie— who he thinks also hates him and might be in love with Robbie. So, while at least half of the party doesn’t like him— honestly he’s not sure about Haylee either— the important factor is he hasn’t fucked, sucked, licked, fingered or wanked any of them, and the only one he’s ever even offered to do anything like that for was Robbie— who had brushed him off with good natured and unshakable heterosexuality.

He wouldn’t even be going out to drinks with them all if he hadn’t run into the guy on his way back from work earlier — and isn’t that a funny thing to think— _work_ — even if it’s not, strictly speaking, a conventional _job._ Unlike most of his old so-called-mates, Robbie had been the same as always. Happy to see him, bouncy and boisterous and obnoxious, slapping him hard enough on the back he’d thought he was going to go arse over tit. The man’s like a dog, and not in a _Jezza the Jack Russell_ kind of way— more like a big, dumb mutt— the kind that’s almost hip-high and still jumps up so you fall over and they can slobber on you better— well, if you’re Haylee or whoever Robbie’s going out with anyway. As stated, the man’s never slobbered on him.

So, he’s got drinks with _old_ mates, staying at his mum’s, staying at his dad’s— and for the final night of their separation— nothing. He’s kind of tempted to go out and get completely shit-faced, but who knows what might happen to him if he does. He could go round Jamie’s? Maybe go see Marnie and Nathan Jr in her new council flat? Whatever, he’ll work it out. 

Only first he’s got to get through tonight. Not an easy task. It takes a very, very long time— and a bottle of wine from the kitchens— before he gets to sleep.

He feels miserable the next day, but he still goes in to work, still copies the powers Seth wants copied— always double, triple checking it’s the right one, and always sensing for the wretched feeling of his immortality after Seth’s taken back whichever one it is— he doesn’t quite trust the man not to just _take_ it from him too— even though Seth hasn’t so far. 

He’s only been working for the man for a handful of days and already he’s made almost ten thousand pounds. 

He doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s been putting it in his bank account— which has been empty of more than five quid since even before his mum chucked him out— but he’s not sure that’s a great idea in the long run, is it? You’re supposed to launder money like that, aren’t you? How do you launder money though? He has no idea. He’ll probably have to ask someone— but he hasn’t felt up to it yet. He’s kind of thinking of asking Seth if he can stay on as a power copier/secretary thing even after his debt is paid off if it’s going to pay like this.

At the end of the day Seth pulls him aside and asks if he’s alright, looking as uncomfortable to be asking the question as he feels to have it asked by his new boss. Apparently he’s been quiet— not himself. He tells the guy Simon’s had to go to Stockholm— and then Seth cuts him off before he can say anything else. He then passes on the assorted messages and requests of Seth’s assorted clientele who either have the number of the business phone Seth gave him, or showed up but the man couldn’t see today— who’s after what power, who has what power to sell, and gets ready to leave— but then Seth’s handing him an entirely extra three hundred pounds and ordering him to get a more work appropriate wardrobe before he comes back in tomorrow. 

The man tells him he doesn’t have to wear a suit, but no more of the old, faded shit with holes in, and no dumb t-shirts— smart casual, he’s told, but like fuck he knows what that means. If he was a bird he’d maybe go for the sexy secretary shtick, wiggly little skirts, low-cut blouses, maybe stockings with the lines up the back— not for Seth, of course, but for how much it’d drive Simon nuts every time he came home— but he’s not a bird. 

What do male secretaries/power copiers —and that term makes him feel like a piece of office equipment— wear? Mind you he could still go with a skirt— but the way he feels in women’s clothes is a way he wants to feel around Simon, not around Seth.

It’s not like he can ask any of his mates for advice— the only one who wears anything remotely business appropriate is Simon, and he doesn’t want to dress like his boyfriend— don’t get him wrong, it’s sexy on Simon, but he’s not Simon, and it’d be weird, wouldn’t it? If they started dressing the same.

Going shopping because his boss told him to is weird. Going shopping at all is weird— it’s been months now since he had the money to buy himself anything other than food, booze, weed, girls’ knickers, and cigarettes. 

He feels oddly self-conscious and kind of wrong, because there’s part of his mind telling him that if he’s going to change the way he looks for anyone it should be _Simon_ not Seth— and also because he kind of feels like a traitor to himself, because he’s never let anyone tell him how to dress, not mates, not school, not his mum— _so why change now?_ Just because he’s supposed to dress “smart casual” doesn’t mean he has to dress like a complete twat.

If he has to be “smart casual” he can also be “obnoxiously androgynous”— people hate that, the few times he and Simon have gone out with him in girls’ clothes— it gets right up people’s noses— makes them make _comments,_ makes Simon delightfully protective— So he gets clothes that are a bit more fitted, no “stupid patterns”, no writing, no holes, mostly sombre colours, and a new pair of black leather ankle boots— shopping from both the women’s and men’s sides of the store, though sticking to trousers instead of skirts, because, again, skirts = for Simon.

Anyway, he still feels kind of weird at the end of it— he’s starting to worry that this whole being with Simon thing might be making him grow up a bit— and also that he doesn’t mind. He never wanted to grow up when he was younger, never wanted to grow older, get boring, get a job, have responsibilities— he must be losing his fucking mind. Why can’t he make himself care though?

So he meets Robbie and the others at this bar they all used to go to— which he hasn’t been to in ages. It’s off the estate near his mum’s place, so nowhere near where any of his current friends live. Robbie seems happy to see him, even if he’s the only one who even smiles. 

He gets pulled into this horribly friendly and painfully rough hug the moment he shows up, then Robbie makes him sit down next to him and update him on his life after a round of apologies for the fact the man had been in prison when his mum chucked him out or else the man would have let him stay with him. He can just imagine it— the diet of beans on toast. The smell of the farts. The moist sounds of Robbie and Haylee fucking all the time. The absence of Simon in his life— no thanks.

Proud, a little defiant, he tells them all he has a boyfriend, that they’re going to be moving in together— whether Simon knows it or not— and watches them react. It doesn’t faze Robbie, but the others— Haylee scrunches up her nose, Liz makes some comment about _always knowing,_ and Paulie seems to think he’s about to try and seduce Robbie so starts getting really pissy about it. 

It just forces him to appreciate the friends he has now— twattish though the sentiment might be. Even though he wouldn’t say they all even _like_ him, they certainly don’t piss and moan about him like this lot. 

After he’s finished his pint he’s thinking he might have an early night, say his goodbyes before he has to listen to any more of Robbie’s detailed plans of everything they’ll do when he and Haylee go to Ibiza in a couple of months, maybe head off to the bar on the estate and spend some time with whoever’s there tonight— when some of his other old mates rock up to the bar and he spots _Callum_. 

The guy startles when he sees him, that boringly, conventionally good looking face scrunching up in confusion. He wonders if Callum realises that of all his mates and semi-mates and random acquaintances _Callum_ is the only one he didn’t ring when his mum kicked him out. Even before that— _thing_ — that happened a few weeks before he got done for the pick-n-mix the guy was— it takes him a moment to place the emotion— _giving him the creeps._

Rough and rude about it the few times he’d sucked him off or given him a wank, insulting him to his face and behind his back, but then all grabby and telling him how sexy he was and how much the guy wanted to _fuck_ him and— Callum had hurt him a couple of times. Once bruised his wrist when the guy had tried to make him give him a wank and he hadn’t wanted to, once split his lip on his own teeth by sticking his cock in his mouth when he was way too off his face to be blowing anyone, and also there was the time Callum had grabbed his head and _held it down_ until he’d almost vomited all over the guy’s cock— after which he’d ended up with bruises all over the back of his neck— and he thinks Callum might have spiked him a couple of times, but can’t be sure— So, even before the _thing_ he’d decided he didn’t want to do any of that stuff with the guy anymore, refused when Callum had asked— which actually might be what led to the _thing_ if he thinks about it, Callum bothering him all evening, him saying no, the guy lurking around until he was too drunk—

He shudders. Has this weird sense that if Simon was here, if Simon _knew_ — Callum might not have a long and lustrous future ahead of him— which is a thought that makes him feel both powerful and strangely anxious. 

At this point he decides it really is time to go and starts trying to escape the table, but Robbie pulls him back down and insists he tells everyone who’s shows up about everything he’s up to— starting by telling them all for him that he’s _apparently got a boyfriend now_. 

Callum seems the most surprised, the rest hardly look interested— or only interested enough to be mocking. It pisses him off. It pisses him off enough that he describes Simon— dead fit, built, handsome, smart, good to him, a real gentleman— and then, as they’re all pretty much rolling their eyes he adds— _fucks better than a porn star and with a cock that’s fatter than his wrist._ Robbie laughs and smacks him on the back again in amongst all the faces scrunching up and Callum’s look of— _something._

‘So, is this boyfriend of yours keeping you now, or are you still living on the streets?’ Liz asks.

‘Or is he another homeless?’ adds Paulie, ‘Are the two of you sharing a mattress under the flyover?’

‘We’re actually getting a flat,’ he says—

‘Oh, a council flat?’ Liz interrupts. 

‘No, not a council flat,’ he grits out— not that there’s anything wrong with having a council flat, it’s just the way she says it. ‘A _flat_ flat.’

‘So he is keeping you?’ Liz asks.

‘Well, since _I’m_ paying for it, I guess _I’m_ keeping _him_ ,’ he replies.

Then it’s like they can’t believe he could have any money, get a job, _keep_ a job— and he’s not about to tell them he’s working for a[n ex] drug dealer— because he gets the impression this lot might call the cops and try to get him in trouble— so they start speculating what he might be doing to earn any money, Liz and Paulie leading the conversation, apparently deciding between themselves in some of the loudest whispers that he’s ever heard that he’s probably selling it— since he’s got a boyfriend and all. 

They’re all being cunts, that’s the thing— well maybe not Robbie— but the rest of them. Cunts. And he used to be King Cunt among them, nastier, crueller, totally uncaring about whether he hurt someone or what anyone thought of him, but— well fuck, he really has grown up. Of course he’s still a cunt most of the time, but he’s now got friends he doesn’t feel the need to be cuntish towards constantly, better friends than this load of twats. Friends he actually kind of likes. 

Friends he’d rather be with.

He tries to escape again, but Robbie grabs him and smiles at him with that big, friendly face and asks him to just stay for another couple of rounds, that it’s been too long, that he really wants to catch up— and he doesn’t want to, but somehow he’s ended up pinned in between the wall and their table, Robbie on one side, Aron-who-he-sucked-off-once-at-a-party-and-who-cried-when-he-came on the other, and Robbie’s telling Paulie it’s his round. 

He keeps his eyes on the drinks all the way from the bar until the pint glass is in his hand, making sure Callum goes nowhere near it— he’s pretty sure Paulie hates Callum too, so he doubts they’d gang up and spike him together— and as Paulie’s handing around their drinks he hears Callum say he just got paid so next round’ll be on him— and it’s like he could almost see it happening before the guy opened his fucking mouth.

No way is he letting Callum buy him a drink. He shouldn’t even be out drinking with the guy— if something happens it’ll be no one’s fault but his own. Bad enough that Aron and a couple other guys he’s sucked off are here— and what would Simon say? But _Callum._

So, for what must be the first time in his life he _nurses_ his drink. _Sipping_ delicately at it, drinking it slower than any man alive must have ever drunk a pint. He lets the conversation around him wash over him, not really listening, not really joining in, just waiting for Callum to go and get everyone else a drink, for them to drink it, for the couple of rounds to be over so he can convince Robbie not to force him to stay any longer.

Callum is dithering though, blue eyes flicking to his glass every now and then, like the guy is trying to wait it out, wait until he’s finished his drink so he’s forced to accept one from the man. Not happening. He gives the other man a _look,_ eyes narrowing as Callum’s gaze skitters away. 

Eventually everyone starts hopping into the other man for trying to welch on getting the next round, so Callum’s forced to slink over to the bar— though the man has the balls to ask him first if he wants another drink. He gestures at his half full pint and waves off the suggestion. 

It’s as Callum’s handing round the next round that it happens, the man gets a look on his face like he’s about to shit himself just before handing over Alon’s, then seems to trip, lurching forward and catching himself on the table so that the man’s hand is right next to his— skin touching. A nasty prickling feeling surges where Callum’s hand is touching his, making him pull his hand back and rub at the skin— it’s not like a sense of repulsion, not a psychological thing, it’s more like a thousand tiny, itchy needles just went into his skin. It’s even a bit red there, skin a little irritated.

Less than a minute later he starts feeling _weird._ Hot first, a full body flush, then _dizzy,_ kind of sick, kind of slow and stupid— _he’s been spiked,_ only he’s sure Callum didn’t go anywhere near his drink. That _look._ Oh, he bets this is some _power_ shit.

‘Need to piss,’ he slurs at Robbie, making the man get out of his way enough that he can stand. He needs to get out of here, he needs— he thinks he’s probably going to lose consciousness soon. Everything is getting slow and strange and distorted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the "family drama" version of what happens next, which realistically probably isn't canon, but I thought some of you might be interested, so here it is.

If he goes out into the street Callum will just follow him, won’t he? He needs to make a plan in the moments he’s got left in which he’ll be able to think enough to do so. 

Maybe he should go and lock himself in one of the toilets? Oh, that’s probably going to be the best idea he’s capable of. He needs to ring someone— if he rings someone— but Simon’s— Simon’s—

He fumbles out his phone as he staggers to the loos, blinking blearily down at the contacts list. His eyes won’t focus properly. He thinks that’s Curtis— Curtis will come and help him, won’t he? He rings the number. 

Curtis picks up as he slams himself into one of the stalls, fumbling with the lock. ‘Nathan?’

‘I’ve been spiked,’ he slurs. ‘Callum spiked me. Or used a power to spike me. I need—’ he leans against the inside of the poster covered door. Fuck he’s tired. Fuck. Fuck.

‘ _Nathan_? What the fuck’s going on?’

That’s right. Curtis. ‘He spiked me. I knew I should have left when he showed up. Simon’s going to be so angry—’

‘ _Simon?_ Fuck, nevermind. _Where are you?_ We’ll come get you.’

It’s hard to think, but eventually he remembers the name of the bar, manages to slur it out. Curtis says they’ll be right there and then starts shouting at people in the bar, telling them they all have to leave, that the bar’s closing early tonight. ‘Please,’ he thinks he whispers. ‘I don’t want to go with him. He’s going to make me—’ he fumbles the phone from his clumsy fingers, dropping it on the tiled floor. 

There’s no way he’s going to be able to bend down to get it and stand back up again so flails at the toilet, slapping the lid closed and taking a seat, reaching for the phone from this less dangerous height. He drops it the first time, the second, but manages to get a grip on it the third time, straightening up and leaning heavily back on the cistern.

‘Curtis?’ but the call’s been disconnected. He needs to ring back. He stares down at his phone, desperately trying to make it make sense. It seems to take forever but eventually he navigates back to the contacts list with mostly numb fingers, pressing Curtis. The phone rings, he hears it answered. ‘Curt’s?’

‘ _Nathan?_ ’ his dad answers. That’s not right, he should hang up— ‘Nathan, what’s wrong?’

‘Dad,’ he whimpers, voice bleary and semi-coherent. ‘Fuckin’ Call’m spik’d me. I d’n w’nna go w’v him, ‘m w’v _Simon_ an’ he’s g’n _h’rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt_ me—’

‘ _ **NATHAN!**_ ’ his dad’s voice cuts through whatever he was saying. Why’s he talking to his dad? Where is he? Where’s Simon?

‘Sim’n?’ 

‘ _Nathan,_ I need you to concentrate— _where are you?_ ’

Where? He glances around a world that wobbles in and out of focus, ‘’m inna toil’t.’

‘ _What toilet?_ ’ it’s funny, his dad sounds so worried. ‘ _Nathan?_ ’

‘Toil’t—’ he tries to think but it’s hard, it’s so hard. His head feels heavy and hot and stuffed with cotton wool— where is he? How did he get— ‘Bar! ‘m at th’ bar neeeaaaaaaar mum’s. Us’d go all t’time.’ 

‘Good! That’s good! Now what’s the bar called?’

Called? Called? Call— he drops the phone again, can’t work out how to bend down and pick it up. He feels so _tired._ So—

Everything kind of goes away after that. He thinks maybe someone is calling his name from very far away. He thinks maybe something is grabbing at his ankle under the stall door. He thinks maybe someone else is calling his name and then demanding to know what’s going on— but that’s the last he thinks until he wakes up in his old bedroom.

He sits up, groaning at how much his body aches— What the fuck happened? Last thing he remembers is—

 _Callum._ The guy’s power, or whatever that was, going to hide in the toilets and ringing Curtis— How did he get from the toilets to here?— fuck that, more importantly— he shoes a hand down the back of his briefs and has a feel, trying to work out if he’s been— no. No, he doesn’t think so— even though his other power means he seems to tighten up and stop hurting disconcertingly fast— if Callum had— well, there’d be some evidence of lube or blood or spunk, and there’s none. He sighs, relieved. 

He pushes the covers back. The best way to work out what happened is to go and find someone to tell him. 

As he stands he realises he’s only in a t-shirt and his briefs— but it’s not his t-shirt. It’s some big, baggy grey thing. One of Jezza’s he’d guess. What happened to his clothes?

He staggers out of his room and down the stairs, calling out ‘Mum? Jezza?’

‘Nathan!’ he hears her reply, then sees her come rushing into the hall a moment later— followed by Jeremy— and his _dad_ of all people. 

‘What the fuck happened?’ he asks as he wobbles his way down the last few steps. 

His mum rushes forward, catching his arm and steadying him as he steps off the last step. ‘What do you remember?’ she asks as she ushers him into the lounge, shooing him onto the couch, then handing him the ugly hand crocheted blanket her Auntie Kayleen gave her as a wedding present. He happily wraps himself in it as he thinks, seeing if there’s any memory past ringing Curtis. There’s not.

‘I rang a mate of mine because Callum had spiked me, and he said he and my other mates were coming to get me, but then I dropped the phone and—’ he trails off.

‘You rang me,’ his dad says. ‘I think you must have pressed the wrong number. I could tell something was wrong so I got you to tell me what you could of what had happened, but you were pretty incoherent, and I couldn’t get you to tell me where you were other than in the toilets of a bar near your mum’s that you used to go to all the time— and then I think you dropped your phone again. I rang Louise, hoping she’d know what bar it was, and she did and she told me, so me and Jamie got in the car— I was at his, you know— but by the time I got there both your mum and your mates had already arrived— I think you’d best explain what I missed—’ this is directed to his mum.

‘Mum?’ he asks, looking at her.

‘We got in the car once your dad explained what was going on,’ she says, giving him a soft _look._ ‘I remembered the bar from all the times I had to go and get you when you got too pissed to even crawl home. It’s a good thing on reflection, I suppose. When we got there I sent Jeremy into the men’s toilets to look for you, while I asked around to make sure it _was_ the right place— though I could see some of your mates over in the corner. I’d barely even started asking around when he came out of the toilets with you leaning on him, _completely out of it_ , and this other boy— Callum McDaniels I think, if I’m remembering him right— flapping around and trying to tell my husband that _he_ could get my son home and that Jeremy didn’t need to bother.’ 

‘I found him trying to crawl under the stall door where you had locked yourself,’ Jeremy adds.

The thought makes him shudder, wrap the blanket tighter. 

‘So then I went to check on you while Jeremy was still holding you up, and that Callum boy started arguing with _me_ that you were fine, we could leave, and that he could get you home— which was when Jeremy told me how he’s found the lad— and just as I was about to give him _such a serve_ your other mates showed up. That Kelly girl threatened to kick his teeth in, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get a look on their face quite like the one he did. That’s when that Robert Gardner came over and got involved, wanting to know what was going on— so Kelly and — _Curtis_ is it?—’ he nods ‘They were going on about Callum spiking you, and Callum was insisting he hadn’t— except you’d obviously been spiked— you were barely conscious and I think if Jeremy hadn’t been holding you up you would have just collapsed— so I was joining in, and then the others that came with Kelly and Curtis started having a go— so Callum must have panicked, because he grabbed that Kelly and Curtis and a moment later they were both saying they felt really weird, and then they had to sit down—’

‘—This is when me and Jamie showed up,’ his dad interrupts to say.

‘Yes, your dad showed up then,’ his mum says, quickly, before getting back to the story, ‘and as he and— _Jamie_ were coming over that weird lad— starts with an “R”— he got right in Callum’s face about this being some _power “bullshit” and that Callum had roofied you with whatever sick and twisted power he has so he could drag you back to his lair to—_ ’ she breaks off. ‘Is that what he was doing? Do you know?’

He shrugs, a little awkwardly, ‘Probably. He’s always been a bit— _weird_ about me.’ 

‘Oh, _Nathan,_ ’ she sighs, ‘why did you go out with him then?’

‘Well I didn’t know he was going to be there, did I?’ he snaps, defensive. ‘It was only supposed to be Robbie and a couple of his mates, but then Callum shows up— I tried to leave, but Robbie was insisting I stay for another couple of rounds. So I nursed my drink and made sure Callum couldn’t get anywhere near it— except it turned out he didn’t need to, did he? All he needed to do was _touch_ me— which he pretended to trip or something in order to do— and that was it. _Fucking Storm._ — Wait, what happened to Kelly and Curtis?’

She gives him a look that says the topic of why he didn’t leave the moment Callum showed up isn’t over yet, and that she’ll get back to it later, but does answer his question ‘Oh, they were both acting like you were— _spiked_ — and then when that— Rupert? Randy? Rudolph?’ he interrupts to tell her the guy’s name, ‘ _Rudy_ was going on and on about who was really the sexual predator around here one of the other girls who had been fussing over Curtis— short, pretty little thing— marched right up and punched Callum in the face. It all got a bit confusing after that. I think he must have used his power on Robert and that other lad who had just come over to back him up, because they went down, and then he tried to use it on that Rudy— but I don’t even know what happened there, because the next moment there were two _Rudys_ and one was acting spiked and the other was whining— and somewhere in it all Callum managed to escape the bar. Your dad and— _Jamie_ — went after him, but there was such a crowd around that by the time they got out on the street he’d run off.’

It sounds— actually it sounds fucking ridiculous and probably hilarious to watch for someone not involved. ‘So what happened next? How did I get back here?’

‘We— your dad, Jeremy and I, brought you back here— _Jamie_ took your dad’s car to take Kelly and the two Rudys home, while the other two girls took Curtis in their car.’

‘I slept on the couch,’ his dad says.

His mum nods. ‘Your dad slept on the couch. We were— we were all so _worried_ Nathan. Your dad ringing up, saying you were afraid this Callum lad was going to hurt you—’

‘Did I say that?’ he asks, surprised. 

His dad nods. 

Oh. 

How _embarrassing._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the canonical version of what would have happened. Nathan getting rescued by Future!Simon basically.

If he goes out into the street Callum will just follow him, won’t he? He needs to make a plan in the moments he’s got left in which he’ll be able to think enough to do so. Fuck. If he goes and hides in the toilets Callum will follow him in there too, and then he’ll be trapped and probably unconscious and who knows what might happen to him— Yeah, heading out into the street’s probably his best bet— maybe he’ll run into someone he knows, maybe he can find a— find a—

Hide. 

Somewhere.

Hide—

He staggers through the crowd, the world rocking and wheeling around him, the lights leaving trails across his vision, making him feel sick and strange. Outside it’s cold. A good cold. Helps with the hot, sick feeling of it all—

He thinks maybe someone says “are you alright mate?” at one point, but he’s not sure. He needs— 

Hide. He has to.

Hide.

Hide—

He feels like he’s going blind, brain not registering what he’s seeing, if he’s seeing anything at all. He’s so tired. He just wants to—

 _Hide,_ remember.

Hide.

Hi—

Dark figure dropping down from the roof. Familiar. Strange.

‘ _Nathan?!_ What’s wrong?!’

That voice.

‘Barry?’ figure coming closer, arms around him, holding him up— no. No. Body heat, smell, shape. Familiar/Strange. ‘You’re not Barry. Who are you?’

\---

He wakes to a world of grey.

It takes him a moment to realise where he is, except he has no idea where that it. It’s a flat or something? Maybe one of those Modernist kind of ones. He’s on a _bed_ at least, and not just a mattress on the floor. A proper bed. A comfortable, thickly padded, _expensive_ feeling bed.

A flash of movement attracts his attention as he’s trying to work out how he got here. He sits up, feeling the covers fall down to lie around his waist— _What?_

‘Who the fuck—?’ he blurts out, before the more important question occurs to him. ‘What the fuck do you want with me?’ 

The guy, _the man in the mask_ still in his mask, Alisha’s sometime stalker, doesn’t answer. Just stands there, looking a little awkward for all that he’s dressed up like some twat that thinks he’s a superhero.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a glimpse inside Future!Simon's head- complete with some details of Alisha/Curtis/Nikki's sex life, because he is a pervert.

After— what he did— he tried to stay away. Tried to leave them all alone, leave Nathan alone, to not— 

Whatever it was, whatever his intentions, it didn’t last long. He came crawling back. It’s so hard to stay away, to stop— _watching._

He has learnt so many things, things about Nathan, terrible things that have happened to him, to all of them— or almost all of them— but he has also learnt about his other self, the other Simon. 

The other Simon is a _monster._

A killer.

A maimer. 

A torturer. 

The other Simon seems to see himself as righteous retribution, touch what is his, hurt Nathan, and he will wreak bloody vengeance— and not even just _Nathan_ — the other him had pushed that creep of a coach down the stairs for Alisha after what he did to _Curtis._

Sometimes he catches himself thinking that this version of Nathan, this sweet and loving and _giving_ version of the Irishman, is too good for this other him. The other him is a _murderer_ — but then he thinks of what _he_ did to Nathan, getting him shot like that—

His feelings are strange. Complicated. 

He wishes it could be easy, that he could love Alisha, be with Alisha, find his purpose in _Alisha_ — but he no more recognises this Alisha than he does this him. She’s not _his_ Alisha. His Alisha would never do the things he’s watched her do, the things she does with Curtis and Nikki—

And that was a surprise. He wishes he knew how it started, but he doesn’t— his grasp of their story starts _in media res_ — it starts with him creeping around to Alisha’s flat not long after the thing with Nathan, just to see her, just to remember, and looking in the window to find—

Nikki is apparently a very creative person. From everything he heard from Alisha after he’s sure she and Curtis never even tried anything but mutual wanking, certainly never getting dressed up in leggings and form fitting long sleeved tops and gloves and socks like a troupe of interpretive dancers and then engaging in a tangle of dry-humping. Or the other time, when he looked in and there was Nikki, still in her interpretive dance costume, harness around hips, wobbly pink cock strapped to her front, slithering between the thighs of the waiting Alisha lying propped against Curtis, a fleecy blanket helping to keep skin from skin—

The last time he looked in on them that wobbly pink cock was making another appearance, strapped around Alisha’s hips this time, the thighs being crept between being the female form of a Curtis with Nikki sitting on his face. 

He should feel jealousy, but she’s a stranger to him, not _his_ Alisha as he said, she’s not his girlfriend, his lover, his beloved. _His_ Alisha is dead and he can’t get back to her. 

Maybe that’s why—

Even widowers usually start looking around again, don’t they? The _first_ true love doesn’t have to be the _only_ true love, does it?

He is very— attractive, this Nathan. Pretty, like the other him insists on saying— but not just _pretty_ —

Once the other him is done with his community service he’s got work experience lined up, work experience in the industry he’s always wanted to be a part of, work experience that _Nathan_ organised for him through the Irishman’s father. It’s— It’s— 

He can’t imagine _his_ Nathan doing something like that for him.

Not only that but this Nathan now has a job— admittedly acting as Seth’s secretary or something— and instead of blowing all the money on clothes or drugs or whatever it is Nathan likes the man wants to get a flat with the other Simon. A _flat._

Of course they’ll have to wait for the other Simon to get back from Stockholm because apparently Nathan wants to go looking at flats _together_ instead of just by himself. It’s—

_Romantic._

This Nathan treats the other Simon in a way that—

He wants it for himself, something like that. He can’t fight it, the knowledge, the jealousy— the other Simon has it so good and he doesn’t even realise it. 

He’s sure _he’d_ never let his mum convince him to leave Alisha to go running off to Sweden just because his dad slipped over in the street and broke his arse. _Coccyx_ — and hadn’t that been funny, the way Nathan’s first reaction had been “Your poor mum” before the other him had explained that the word mean _tailbone._

Maybe he’s being unfair. 

It’s not like he’s forgotten what his mum’s like, and he’d seen enough of the other him’s face during that phone conversation to know she’s somehow twisted it to be his fault— maybe it is. His dad certainly didn’t break his arse at this point in his timeline.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that a good portion of this is just the word "shenanigans" but I didn't get all the details worked out, still, this is a reasonable, if poorly written, framework of what would have happened next in the fic if I'd finished it. I hope it makes sense.

Assuming that Future!Simon rescuing Nathan is canon for my AU instead of the “Family Drama” version:

Nathan deciding his masked rescuer seems dodgy as fuck and getting out of there ASAP.

The next day Nathan would run into Callum again— Callum having found out where Robbie had run into him when Robbie accidentally told him.

There would be a confrontation, Callum would try to get Nathan to go with him, would try to touch him again, Nathan would dodge him and tell him to fuck off.

Future!Simon suddenly appears and knocks Callum out. Nathan chooses to deal with the situation by getting Future!Simon to drag Callum to Seth to have Seth remove his power.

But oh no! Peter saw Future!Simon being a superhero.

Nathan goes on his merry way, Future!Simon resumes being a creeper, Peter somehow finds out who he is (through as yet undetermined shenanigans) and uses his power on him, even though Future!Simon knows who he is and can't stop it.

Nathan’s living his life, hanging out with his parents, waiting for Barry!Simon to return, Peter is discovering Future!Simon’s secrets— or, to put it another way, Future!Simon tells Peter about Barry!Simon, casts him as an absolute monster/bad guy, describes Nathan as an innocent being used, abused and bewitched by him. Peter takes a moment to process the only real “superhero” he’s ever met being non-heteronormative, but Northstar, Apollo and Midnighter etc. so gets over it and starts using his power and plotting with a semi-autonomous Future!Simon to “rescue” Nathan.

Cue shenanigans.

At some point Future!Simon pretends to be Barry!Simon, but Nathan sees straight through that— Barry wouldn’t just show up without calling/texting first, also Barry doesn’t kiss like that etc. Nathan is not impressed. Future!Simon gets kneed in the balls.

More shenanigans. Alisha mentioning meeting him before and the details thereof.

The whole gang gets involved, trying to sort it out before Barry!Simon gets back because they’re sure he will not be impressed and might do a murder and Nathan doesn’t want to see Barry!Simon kill another Simon even if he doesn’t like the other one much.

Then Peter and his powers are revealed.

More shenanigans.

Peter gets knocked out and dragged to Seth under Nathan’s initiative and his powers also removed.

Then Barry!Simon comes back and there’s two Simons. Nathan has a few fantasies about what he could do with two Simons, assuming Future!Simon isn’t a dick without Peter’s influence.

Future!Simon is still a dick. Still tries to steal Nathan. This includes some rather forceful kissing and then getting kneed in the balls again. Nathan does not want him and concludes he is “not a gentleman.”

Shenanigans.

Simons fight. Nathan gets upset, even though he tries to tell himself that even if Barry!Simon is killed he is immortal. Nathan makes them stop fighting. Neither Nathan nor Barry!Simon like Future!Simon. In fact almost everyone doesn’t like Future!Simon at this point.

Eventually Future!Simon decides to go find a Nathan of his own, gets a proper power to travel between universes from Seth, and leaves. Is next spotted in what very may well be the original universe, “rescuing” someone who might just be the original Nathan from a Vegas prison.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: For mentions of what happened in Spiral Fracture and for Simon being dark and vengeful and violent and doubting his own sexual proclivities. 
> 
> This one is a bit of another fic which basically should have been Simon trying to cope with everything that's happened to Nathan and everything he's learnt about Nathan's past- leading up to them having their first successful fuck after Spiral Fracture.
> 
> If you've made it thus far let me just thank you all again for reading my weird little series of fics, and for commenting and leaving kudos, I've appreciated it more than I can say!

He still thinks about Richard— after. There’s regret there, that he didn’t kill the man, even though he does think he did the right thing— death is easy, isn’t it? He’s not religious, for all that his boyfriend is immortal, so all he thinks there is after death is nothingness. Not even peace, just an absence— an absence that is too good for a man like Richard Cunningham, a man who deserves to suffer. He’ll never have peace now, even if he does his time and gets out, even if he never goes to jail— what he is is carved into his face, what he’s done is all over the papers. He wishes the most miserable future possible on the man.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, what he saw in that man’s house will suddenly flash across his mind. The videos. The pictures. The pictures of _Nathan._ — he doesn’t want that image of his boyfriend existing anywhere inside of him, but it does. He now has to carry it the same as Nathan has to carry the experience.

It had been easy to recognise his boyfriend in amongst the pictures of the man’s other victims. Same eyes, same curly hair, same look of _defiance_ — even if it was mixed in with fear, with shame, with anger. In some of those pictures how much Nathan _hated_ the man doing that to him was so clear. In the eyes of the other kids too—

He doesn’t get it, understand it, any of it— why someone would be into that. Kids. Why someone would— What he saw at Richard’s house were some of the least arousing images in existence. The man obviously didn’t agree though.

Which if them is more the monster? The man who took pleasure in hurting and scaring children like that or the man who had ruthlessly castrated and mutilated him? Maybe it’s just two different kinds of monster. 

He’d rather be his kind of monster.

The worst though is ever since, when he and Nathan are together, kissing, the clothes coming off— sometimes he’ll remember. Nathan, a child naked and afraid. And all he can think is _why_ is his boyfriend letting him touch him? In stories people who have been sexually abused are afraid of sex, aren’t they? They don’t want it, don’t beg for it, don’t enjoy it the way Nathan seems to— and it makes him afraid that Nathan isn’t actually enjoying it, that it’s just and act to keep him. Happy, or whatever. To keep him with Nathan. A trade, his boyfriend’s body in exchange for his affection.

He finds himself desperate to know Nathan’s ok, that his boyfriend is enjoying his touch, that the other man isn’t afraid. He keeps asking, asking, but Nathan dismisses him, and if he asks too much then Nathan starts getting upset— and he never wants his boyfriend to be upset.

Also, he feels dirty, like a creepy, a pervert, the things he likes. Making Nathan do them. He’s tried to be better— since Richard, since he found out. Also about Father Maher— he hasn’t tracked that man down yet, but when he does— he’s going to convince that degenerate in a dog collar that he’s the Devil himself come to claim his soul by the time he’s done.

So, he’s trying to be gentle, trying to be respectful— and it’s stressful. So stressful. And he hates that what he wants to do is have things the way they were before, when he could fuck Nathan as hard as he liked in his ignorance, spunk all over him, piss on him, eat his arse until he was incoherent, finger him until he came and came and came— but it seems wrong now. Not just to do it like that, but to _have done_ it like that in the first place.

He feels guilty, all the time. 

Guilty and furious.

There’s this list in his head of people he’ll have to _get_ one day. That Tim. Jessica’s dad. Father Maher—

It feels like his purpose on this Earth is being thwarted because they are so far out of his reach. He feels like he is Vengeance— not vengeance in the grand sense, not the righter of all wrongs, just the righter of any wrong committed against Nathan.

Love is a funny thing. 

If Nathan ever left him he thinks he’d just die— No. No. Not as long as those three remain. He’d deal with them first and die in the process or soon after. 

Perhaps he’s gone mad. He doesn’t mind it though. It’s been the most fulfilling, most satisfying madness in existence, being with Nathan, being in love, touching the other man, holding him, praising him, _avenging_ him.


End file.
